It’s true that when Max Holloway went down to Rio de Janeiro to unify the featherweight title against Jose Aldo in 2017, he didn’t receive the warmest reception. He heard some boos, but he’d already won the hearts of fight fans by that time through a steady dose of perseverance and pidgin speak, so the “uh vai morrer” chants were barely meant.
When he fought Sweden’s own Akira Corassani in Stockholm, well, they booed him there, too, but he drowned them out with efficiency. He needed just three minutes and change to disappoint the natives, an action which they quickly forgave.
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That’s because Holloway’s never really been a heel.
And the truth is, he isn’t this time, either, as he gets set to take on Louisiana’s favorite son, Dustin Poirier, in the heart of New Orleans at UFC 318. Yet there is so much love out there for Poirier’s swan song that it’s tempting to see Max as a nuisance in town to spoil the festivities. The UFC ran a promo of Tremé/Lafitte’s own Trombone Shorty playing a version of “House of the Rising Sun” to welcome Poirier home. Bourbon Street is glittering with diamonds, and the sentiment all week has been that those babies are forever.
All except this one, who is walking away after what will be his 32nd fight in the UFC.
The sendoff shindig they’re throwing for Poirier is a testament to how much he’s meant to MMA. His very own pay-per-view. It’s Holloway’s BMF belt that will be at stake, but that’s a secondary attraction to the idea of two legends putting a bow on a drawn-out trilogy. Poirier has beat Max twice in the past. The biggest difference is that this time Max is a real 155-pounder, rather than in the 2019 sequel where he was a featherweight masquerading as one.
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The first fight was so long ago that it’s hard to believe there’s surviving footage. It happened at UFC 143, in 2012, when Max was just 20 years old. Lifetimes have come and gone. They’ve fought more than 60 combined fights since that first encounter. These 13 years later, Poirier meeting Holloway is a rare full-circle moment in MMA.
It’s a wild fight.
And from a romantic standpoint, it would be amazing to see Poirier ride off into the sunset with the BMF title strapped over his shoulder, while all of Louisiana celebrates the occasion. Problem is the UFC’s business model is strictly unromantic. Traditionally, it sends its legends off with a cruel beating. They fed Frankie Edgar to the much younger Chris Gutierrez in his farewell fight at Madison Square Garden, just 75 miles from Toms River, New Jersey where Frankie grew up, and it was one of the more depressing farewells you’ll ever see.
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The UFC already tried a version of that by throwing Poirier to Benoit Saint-Denis in March 2024. All that did was set him up for a unexpected title shot.
The worst you can say about Saturday’s main event is that it sucks that somebody has to lose. In contemplating tomorrows, though, Holloway is the only one with real stakes. A victory could mean he’s on his way to a title fight against the man who recently beat him at 145 pounds, Ilia Topuria.
Or, you know — maybe not!
Dustin Poirier and Max Holloway were just babies in the game when they first met in 2012.
(Josh Hedges via Getty Images)
He just watched Paddy Pimblett face off with Topuria in the Octagon after Topuria won the vacant title a few weeks back at UFC 317. Holloway knows he could be fighting just to stay in the proverbial mix.
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Which of course is a thankless task. Max is being asked to ruin the party on Saturday night, to sober up the French Quarter and replace all the beads with leis. In some ways, he relishes being the “bad guy.” He did his part to rile things up by saying that “gumbo sucks” at UFC 318’s pre-fight press conference on Thursday, which was about as offensive as he runs. Yet there almost seems to be a gentleman’s agreement in place that the fight will very much be a fight. That it will deliver.
And in celebrating Poirier’s legacy — which includes his redemption against Conor McGregor, that comeback against “BSD,” the barnburner with Dan Hooker, all the way back to upsetting Josh Grispi in his promotional debut — you know he will try to put on a show. He will default into the thing that has distinguished him for the past 13 years in the UFC, into the brawler who refuses to go out on anything other than his shield.
Of course, Max will meet him there, because that’s what Max does. When he pointed to the center of the Octagon against Ricardo Lamas at UFC 199 toward the end of the fight, he was already up on the scorecards. The firefight was a bonus. He did the same thing in winning the BMF belt against Justin Gaethje at UFC 300, in a fight that people thought he was crazy to take to begin with. He rolled out his chin on a red carpet and said “come get it” to the man who was already down. And with a second left, he dropped Gaethje where he stood in what the UFC has called “the greatest knockout of all time.”
They will pull for Louisiana’s native son in New Orleans, but you can’t hate on Max. Why? Because even if you’re booing him, he’s always had the fight game’s interest in mind. He’s not a heel. He will make sure that he does his part to put on a show, which is why we all love Max.
And he knows just how to send off a beloved legend.
